The Empty House
by shabbytiger
Summary: A continuation of The Longest Day.  Absence makes the heart grow...?
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Empty House

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: Spoilers for Season 3, and set after my story The Longest Day. This takes places after Queen of Hearts, and is my idea of why Gwen was not present in 3 x 11.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine :(

Comments welcome :)

Polished up and beta'd by the wonderful ElegantPaws. xxx Thank you, you truly are brilliant.

-/-/-/-

He missed her.

So many times he had ridden from the walls of Camelot, Gwen's worried eyes finding his with a parting glance whenever possible, but he had never experienced this before. Perhaps, he reasoned, the fact that she was safe in Camelot during his various adventures and exploits, had been enough to stymie the ache. Perhaps, he reasoned, his trips had been bearable since he carried his dreams of her with him, and once, those dreams were all he had.

Now, he knew her taste. His hands knew her shape, her softness, and his fingers knew her secrets. His nose knew her scent; his shoulders knew her hands, her teeth ...his hips knew her weight as she rocked back and forth in the darkness of her bedroom.

He missed her, and it was a physical thing, twisting his gut and hollowing his heart.

Time had begun to slip backwards it seemed, as his eyes searched for her smile, strained for her face in the crowd, yet still she remained gone, no matter how hard he hoped.

Merlin had commented endlessly upon his temper in the last few days, although Arthur was certain that his battle with Uther was Merlin's suspected cause. During the tournament Arthur had allowed the bout with his father to distract him, and it had done so well. He still worried at his decision to allow his father to win, still found himself staring at Uther over meals and wondering what the outcome would have been had he simply fought, disregarding familial respect and his loyalty to the throne.

Oh Uther had offered him praise of a sort, acknowledging Arthur's sacrifice, but the words were fleeting, and still his opinion on Cenred not heeded. Words were easy, Arthur mused, and his father wielded them well. Enough to appease, but they were soon forgotten, old roles resumed quickly, no purchase gained no matter what Arthur did to prove his worth.

On occasion, having a father could be difficult enough. Having a father who was King...abruptly he thought of Gwen and Tom. He cursed his foolish sentiments, knowing full well that Gwen would do anything for her father's return. He felt ashamed of his self pity and barked for Merlin.

The day had been long, and his muscles ached, but never had he been consumed with such a leaden weight before, as though time itself were bearing down upon him.

" Yes, Sire?" Merlin appeared, as always looking a little too innocent, all big eyes and scruffy hair. Arthur always felt the stirrings of suspicion about Merlin, but his manservant was loyal, a good listener, and in times of various peril, had always pulled through for him. It was this knowledge that prevented him pushing the matter further, demanding answers about things that in the end, he deemed inconsequential compared to the friendship that had sprung between them.

Not that Arthur could allow that truth to be taken advantage of of-course.

" I think a bath is in order, Merlin." Arthur groaned as he moved his shoulders, then stopped, his face heating as images of Gwen, lying beneath him, filled his head.

"Are you telling me that I smell, Sire?" Merlin grinned at him, and the moment passed, Arthur unable to contain the smile that the words wrought. His manservant's humour had been missed in his absence.

" You always smell like the stables Merlin. Why should I suddenly be interested in your poor hygiene now?" Merlin shrugged, and Arthur began to disrobe, throwing a _what-are-you-waiting-for_ look at his servant who hadn't yet moved.

"Just fetch some water will you? My shoulders are on fire."

"Back in a jiffy." Merlin span on his heel as Arthur gazed at him, puzzled. Jiffy? The sayings the boy came out with were getting odder by the day. But they made him smile nonetheless.

Briefly, he wondered where Gwen was sleeping tonight, whether she was safe the thought too sharp to follow up on. As subtly as possible he had been following Sir Leon's reports about the outlying patrols, calculating where Gwen's party would be at any given moment.

Morgana was seriously bothering him the last few days. First, dispatching Gwen and a few others to fetch some idiotic must have item from a small market town that may as well be a hundred miles from here the time it was taking; Secondly, encouraging his father to take part in the tournament, recklessly and without thought or consequence. He had been unable to stop himself speaking up at the evening meal when she had announced how excited she was about the purchases being made on her behalf for Uther's approval. It felt like a decade ago now.

Four days earlier...

"Why would you need to send handmaids on a shopping errand in such difficult times? Surely the threat of Cenred is too great for such-"

" Goodness Arthur, you expect me to ask a guard to know the difference between peach and apricot? Gwen knows what I require. I want a gown making especially for a certain birthday celebration not far off." She had turned her eyes on Uther then, who had smiled like a boy beneath her gaze. Arthur swallowed, already annoyed with her for encouraging his father to take part in the tournament. He clenched his fist about his goblet, not wishing for another verbal battle over the table.

" Morgana, we are currently hosting the largest tournament in the land. Cenred will be aware that our resources are being stretched, I merely meant-"

" Arthur you do worry so." Morgana fluttered her eyelashes, and her pale skin glowed in the candle light, and Arthur shivered involuntarily. Morgana smiled brightly, placing a hand on Uther's arm, and Arthur gritted his teeth. "You can't seriously be telling me that Camelot is now a land where we are unable to travel safely from one town to the next? I had no idea things had gotten so bad."

"Nonsense." Uther was incensed at the implication that Camelot was weak, as Arthur winced at his father's tone. "What exactly is your issue with this Arthur? Why are you so concerned about this errand and intent on having us cower to a bullying wretch like Cenred in our own lands?"

Arthur swallowed, his eyes flitting on Morgana's, noting a passing emotion that looked uncomfortably like satisfaction.

Merlin widened his eyes at him from behind Uther's chair as he fetched a water jug, shaking his head in warning. Caught in a moment of suspended peril, Arthur thought quickly, all too aware of Uther's suspicious stare, knowing full well he would be thinking about Gwen, and Arthur's "enchantment" for her.

Thanks, Morgana.

"Father my only thought was that we are losing four good guards and three maids during a tournament when we were playing host to the best of the kingdom, when we need only have lost a courier." He took a long slug of his wine, striving for neutrality in his tone. "Of-course Cenred is a worry. I simply feel the lost resources could have been put to better use serving our guests. I was forced to send two Knights as escorts for a couple of dignitaries from the eastern border. Practically speaking-" he almost choked on the words-" that is a guard's duty. Our guests are well aware that Knights are not usually dispatched for such tasks. It makes us appear that we have something to worry about."

Uther nodded thoughtfully at this, ripping a piece of bread in his hands as he mulled the explanation.

"Arthur is quite right, Morgana. Having our Knights perform such roles makes us seem overly concerned. However," he patted her arm kindly, " such matters are men's worries, I am sure the repercussions had not crossed your mind. Arthur is right to comment on matters of security, and organising the guard is his responsibility."

"I understand, Sire." Morgana bit the words out. "I had thought his concern a little strange, after all, my handmaiden Gwen is mine to do with as I wish. Now I see the bigger picture, I'll be more thoughtful in future."

Arthur's eyes flew to hers, shock hitting him square in the chest. Her arch smile was a challenge.

"Gwen you say?" Now Uther was all ears again, the bread in pieces on his plate as he looked between them. "Wait, wasn't she-"

" Morgana, do what you like with your maid. Leave the guards is all I ask." The quick retort stopped Uther's query, and the lie burnt his throat, but Arthur couldn't allow his father to examine this too closely. He had said his piece now. They had already departed, much to his dismay, no chance to say goodbye, since Morgana had gone above his head to arrange her frivolous mission.

Seemingly satisfied, Uther smiled, finally eating one of the fragments of bread he had destroyed, holding a hand up to quell Morgana's response.

"Enough, children. No more bickering. I have a tournament to prepare for, and do not need the distraction."

Morgana preened then, and began to compliment and tease Uther in equal measure, bolstering his pride whilst chipping at his ego. It was skilfully done. Arthur pushed his plate away, stomach in knots. The daddy's little girl act hadn't registered with him as a problem, mostly since her getting her own way had not impacted him before. He decided he would pay more attention to this new tactic of his "sister's". It was starting to grate.

-/-/-/-

"Merlin, seriously, how long does it take to fetch hot water? What on earth are you doing, chasing down summer rain-clouds to squeeze dry?" Arthur's irritation spilled from him, and he sighed, placing his hands on his hips and staring at the floor trying to regain his composure. He knew he was behaving poorly, every inch the spoilt prince she had so defiantly informed him in heated tones so long ago. Blowing out his breath heavily, he looked up, and grimaced at Merlin's hurt expression.

"Look Merlin I-"

"It's perfectly fine, Sire." Now Merlin was huffy as he sloshed a steaming bucket into the large wooden tub, shoulders hunched, face closed. "I shall inform the water on the stove that Prince Arthur is waiting therefore the usual laws of physics regarding boiling should be ignored for his relaxation is of far more importance. I am sure once the water is aware of its mission it will comply without complaint."

Arthur blinked, surprised and a little ashamed at his man servant's outburst. Despite being naked but for a towel wrapped about his waist he felt hot with embarrassment and coughed lightly, aware of Merlin's disdain. It made him feel small. Gwen's reproving eyes seemed to float before him, her mouth tight with disappointment. Sometimes, Arthur thought, he could be a real ass.

"I'm sorry." Merlin's stiff shock was palpable, making Arthur even more uncomfortable. Was he so arrogant that his apology could elicit such disbelief? It was a sobering thought. "I know I have been a little...the last few days have been difficult. It has been unfair of me to take it out on you."

"Oh it's all right." Now Merlin was his cheery self again, dismissing the apology easily, diffusing the awkwardness in the room with a grin. His eyes grew sly as he hefted his bucket ready for another trip down to the kitchen. The service pulley was broken, and Gaius had refused to let him mend it magically, adamant that the miraculous fixing of the split turning wheel would be a step too far. Sometimes he really hated his abilities, especially when they were utterly unusable. Merlin watched his master, noting the sleepless eyes. He made it to the door before daring to speak, knowing Arthur would not appreciate the teasing but unable to resist.

"The battle with Uther was hard on you, Sire, but you did the right thing. It can't help that Gwen is away either. You must miss her. "

" I-" Hearing the truth stated so boldly stunned Arthur speechless. Merlin grinned and ducked from the door sharpish, before his master regained his wits.

-/-/-/-

Her house was cold. He lit the stove to warm it up, his imagination seeing her everywhere in her home, her laughter in his ears like a whisper, her sighs as he held her to him trailing his spine, the memories stark and vivid. He closed his eyes, feeling foolish for being here, but unable to stay away. Being here, as bitter-sweet as it was, was wholly preferable to tossing and turning in his own bed, wondering.

He hung his cloak on the coat stand next to her sheepskin wrap, and his lungs lost air, images of her wearing it over her cream smock and those trousers she wore on particular journeys...she always looked ready for adventure like that, with her boots and sure skills on horseback.

Instead her own travelling cloak was missing, and he wondered if she were warm enough, safe enough. He felt like he had a Gwen shaped hole in his chest every time he pulled in a breath, and it sliced him with need. For a blinding fierce moment of pure longing he stared at the bed through the curtains, and part of him resented her for having such a powerful hold on him. He was no fool. Gwen was not a girl full of romantic notions, though she felt deeply, he had witnessed that. But he would not convince himself that she suffered as he did, that she missed him with this unbearable ache that hampered every thought, invaded every cell. How could she? She wore her serenity like a halo, there was no way, even in his wildest fantasies that he could believe she bore this torture each time he rode from Camelot, and the realisation hurt worse than he cared to dwell upon.

Merlin was unaware he had sneaked from the castle, and Arthur knew that now his ever curious servant was back in Camelot, such night time exploits would not long go undetected. Tonight he had a reprieve, since the tension from their earlier words still lingered, and Arthur had been unable or unwilling to speak to Merlin further once his bath water was finally delivered. Merlin's comments about Gwen had cut far too close to the bone, and as if sensing he had overstepped some line, Merlin had been quiet, and finished his duties efficiently before saying goodnight. Arthur could not stay. There was also little point, in an empty house, chilled without her presence.

The stove was finally warming up, and he was transported to another night, that first night, and how he had passed the time whilst waiting for the wood to heat. He grew hard just thinking about burying his face in her dark curls. Gods this was intolerable. Conscious of alerting the neighbours to his presence, he dare not light a candle, and could only hope that the smoggy night would diffuse the smoke from the chimney. Since most had their logs dwindling in the flames till they died out into the night he wasn't too worried, but remained alert to any noises outside.

The place still smelt like her, though she had not been here for days, her scent imprinted in the fabrics of her bedding, the lilacs she loved at the table had long gone, but he had replaced them, not liking to see the floral reminder of how much time had passed. It stretched on interminably.

Pausing at her bedside, he ran his hand over the soft throw. Before he could question his actions, or the sanity of them, he shed his boots and belt and climbed into the bed, burrowing into the cold sheets, yearning for the comfort the familiar position provided. The dream catcher swung above his head, and he stared at it for an age, as moonlight and shadow played upon the far wall from her window. The tournament replayed in his head, his father's face as he bore down upon him, and the relief he saw in his eyes as his sword clattered away. The moment was a knot in his chest, and coupled with the bubble of Gwen that seemed to want to lodge itself in his throat, sleep was impossible, and breathing became a chore. He wondered whether loving someone this much was proper for a Prince, whose duty was to his people, to his land. Gwen was the first to point out his obligations, when flights of fancy sped him off. It probably wasn't wise he realised, to be solely at another's mercy this way.

Right now, the need to have her home was a desperate keening in his bones, and he knew he'd give anything to see her face, hear her voice, in this fractured panicked moment. It wasn't wise, he thought. But it was also undeniable, and undo-able. Gwen was the space between heart beats. Without her, it stumbled blindly, missing the gentle pause that kept its steady rhythm.

He drifted to sleep as warmth stole over him from the thick comforter, and the shadows of the dream catcher painted his face with an intricate web, the chiming beads a lullaby of sorts, as his eyes closed and sleep took hold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Details to be found at Chapter One. Beta'd by ElegantPaws, who rocks.**

Gwen ignored the chatter of the two other maids, Lillian and Margaret, trying instead to burrow deep into the sleeping bag fashioned from cow hide and thick hemp. The news from the patrol they had met earlier that evening reverberated in her head, and all she could think of was Arthur.

What had possessed Uther to take part in the tournament? Why would he put Arthur in such a position? It was grossly unfair. A King had no right to exercise his ego in such a manner. He was above the pettiness of pride surely? His place on the throne was not in doubt. It should have been a father's pride that he displayed.

After all, he was willing to throw Arthur at his enemy time and time again. Willing to bask in his son's glory, even claim it as his own during other tourneys. What happened this time? So many questions ran through her mind, yet none she really had any right to ask aloud. Who was she to question her King's motives after all?

Yet when his decisions affected those she cared for, as often they did, the nagging feeling that he was wrong grew stronger, with every misstep the King made.

Arthur. Strong, proud, Arthur. That he should lose to Uther, in Gwen's mind, was laughable. She had witnessed him in battle, saw the way his sword sang in his hand, and knew without doubt that he had capitulated to save his father's pride, at the cost of his own.

He would not humiliate his father, or risk the comments in court about his father's age or ability that his victory would inevitably have stirred. She shifted restlessly, wondering if Arthur had even had a moment to notice her absence. The last few months had seen his responsibilities increase, training ever harder, ever more recruits, and dealing with the skirmishes with Cenred's men at the borders. Taking part in the tournament was just another distraction, and she felt small as she hoped he had at least noticed she was gone. Oh he was full of words her Prince. She believed he meant them for the most part, but she was no child. His overriding concern and duty was to his people, to Camelot, and he was extremely dedicated in his service. She watched him in court, when he was deep in thought, resolving issues between the commoners that his father refused to hear, listened to his fair and just rulings with a sense of such warm pride she was sure others must see her glow with it. Yet he was so focused when dealing with petitioners, her presence not noted. It was ridiculous she chided herself, to feel hurt by his lack of attention, when she was the first to scold him about his duty. She chewed her lip, feeling like a hypocrite.

She stared up at the night sky, the trees encroaching at the edge of her vision, framing the black sheet above, pin pricked with stars. The storm earlier had stalled their travel, much to her frustration, but the mud slide on the main route meant they had to reroute and take a longer winding road through the forest. It had felt like an eternity already, the shop keep in the small town of Elador claiming to have received no order from Lady Morgana, and frantically searching his stock for appropriate fabric. It took him a day and a half to dye silk the correct shade, and every minute that passed was a stretched pulse in her veins, as she longed for her home, for Camelot.

And mostly for Arthur.

She should be well used to missing him so fiercely, but ever since that night, missing him had become harder to bear, now she knew his arms, and strength as he held her. Now she knew what it was to be filled up with him, her hips creaked in longing, and her back ached. Her face grew hot and she concentrated on the murmurs of camp, listening to the guards at the perimeter, inhaling the dwindling smoke of the camp fire, as it bedded in, a glowing ember beacon in the centre of camp. Lillian and Margaret were giggling softly beneath their covers, and Gwen felt separated from them, yet couldn't bring herself to join in. She just wanted to get home.

At least, she mused, rolling to her side, curling her arms about her waist, thoughts of Arthur staved off her fear, as the dark bled into her bones, recalling memories she tried so hard to retreat from. On her side now, she gazed into the fire, and the red and amber glow became imprinted with the image of the pyre she so very nearly died upon and as always, she felt disconnected from the idea, as though it had happened to someone else.

She had spent a long time in that cell thinking of her parents, and whether she would meet them after...tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed the sob in her throat, determined to forget. It still baffled her, how she had survived, thought she was thankful for it. Who had the old man been, claiming the enchantment as his own? And to what end? The only outcome his confession had was her release, and Gwen was worried to know so little of the man and his motives. Was Arthur curious about it she wondered, or was he simply grateful that a reason for her to be freed had been found? So many questions.

Always, her head was full of such puzzlements, but as she let her eyes drift down, obscuring the sight of the fires soft glow, she let Arthur's face, rising above hers, sheened in perspiration, replace her worries. The last words she heard as she finally fell to sleep were his, an amused and anguished whisper.

" Guinevere, shut up."

-/-/-/-

Gwen was leaning over him, her hair trailing across his cheeks, and her throat a tantalising honeyed column of skin just begging to be kissed. Home, he breathed, she was finally home. Burying his face into her neck he threw his arms about her waist, and his legs about hers. She was wearing a dress, all shiny slinky fabric that slid between his thighs and he groaned as warmth flooded his chest, filling in the cold space she had left behind.

"Morning, Arthur."

Now she was kissing him, holding his jaw in her hand, her eyes never leaving his, and he tried to sit up, but they were too entwined, all arms and legs twisted as one. The kiss was hot, but her breath cool on his lips, and she was talking again, murmuring at his mouth, but he didn't want to speak, he wanted to kiss again. He felt starved of her, and his hands wrapped in her dress, trying to find her hips, waist, legs within the voluminous folds.

" Arthur."

She evaded him, and he grew panicked, her lips barely brushing his, slipping from his grasp, his legs sawing as he read the sadness in her eyes as her face began to fade.

" Guinevere." It was a plea, to never leave him again, to crawl up his body and settle on his chest, to stop disappearing. Then the flames were licking her hair, melting her pretty, pretty dress and her eyes were saucer wide as the pyre did its dirty work and bright flames roared upwards. He could feel the heat blistering his skin as he fought to hold her tight, to protect her from the furnace blast, but she was smoke in his grasp, a scream in his lungs as her eyes filled with horror as he watched, utterly helpless. Ice invaded his bones, lead in his veins; the hole in his chest seemed to echo with her loss.

Gone.

She was gone.

The bellow that ripped his throat raw saw him wake in his own bed, sweating, shaking, his heart a galloping war horse thundering free. He strove for calm, anchoring himself in the reality of his room, his own bed. It wasn't real. Gwen hadn't burned. Still a voice called his name, and finally, through the terrifying fog his nightmare had induced, he realised it was Merlin, stood by the drapes. Pale and shocked by Arthur's distressed cry.

"Are you all right?" All formality vanished in the moment, and Arthur panted, trying to find his voice.

His head hurt, and Merlin's simply expressed concern struck a chord in him. He recalled a time once before, lying on the floor in Hunith's home, when he and Merlin had shared, talked as friends would. It had been a rare occasion for Arthur, since being Prince didn't exactly enable friendships. Uther had not allowed him to mix with other children in that manner. He had spent his time training, being tutored in the way of the sword, on horseback, the Knights his caretakers. The need to talk was so strong, but he gritted his teeth instead. He would not betray his weakness.

"I'm fine Merlin." It hadn't been real, he told himself, trying to manage his heartbeat. Gwen was alive. The fire had not taken her. "I just-"

"No need to explain." Merlin's eyes were warm, and a little too understanding, causing Arthur's cheeks to colour, as he wondered what he had said or done whilst caught in the grip of the nightmare. An awkward silence grew between them, and Arthur coughed, noticing the blue cloak he had worn last night thrown on the floor by the door. He really should be more careful he thought, dreading Merlin's curiosity about the garment.

Instead, as Merlin stepped away from the newly opened drapes, allowing sunlight to invade the room, he noticed a sad smile on his man servant's face. Pity? Was he such a befuddled idiot for love that he needed pity? A spark of anger ignited in his chest, and he puffed up in his seating position in the bed, every inch the regal prince.

"Breakfast going to appear by itself, Merlin? Or were you just about to be a good servant and fetch it?" As sharply as he spoke the words, they bounced off the brown haired young man, who merely looked back over his shoulder with a half smile.

"Sorry, Sire. Breakfast on its way." Yet when he reached the door, he paused, quite deliberately and retrieved the cloak from its scrunched up corner, shook it out with infuriating slowness.

Arthur lifted his chin, daring Merlin to comment, in fact almost hoping he would comment - a good fight would take the edge off his nerves after the nightmare. Merlin stayed silent, and hung the cloak up, before departing, though Arthur was convinced he saw a smile before his face vanished behind the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Details to be found at Chapter One, Beta'd by the fab ElegantPaws. **

"Thanks Florentine." The blonde serving girl beamed up at him, and Merlin felt a little cornered as she began to back him up to the wall, his eyes darting left and right up the hallway. They were so close to the sleeping quarters. The last thing he needed was Arthur to witness this. He'd never live it down. Twirling one of her braids, she simply smiled more, her eyes making all sorts of promises and invitations.

Merlin only had his own vanity to blame of-course. The spell he had cast to have his absence noted had certainly worked, since his return he could hardly move without a bear hug, or fluttered eyelashes welcoming him back. Those who had perhaps harboured some hidden feelings for him, Florentine's crush a perfect example, had suffered under the spell far more. Guilt pinched him as he looked into her adoring eyes, panic lodged in his throat.

"Anything for you Merlin," a coy glance from beneath her lashes as his back hit the wall. "Did you miss me whilst you were gone?"

Good lord how to answer that safely?

"Uhm, well I missed Camelot a great deal, I er-" She advanced, her cleavage all but bursting from her dress. He found himself stuttering and attempting to slide away. Not that Florentine wasn't lovely, she just wasn't-

"Florentine I presume the fresh water I requested is hidden in your dress somewhere?" Morgana, her voice like cut glass, snapped the bright haired girl to attention, her blush adorable, but Merlin still was not tempted. Relieved as she demurred, apologised and all but ran off to fetch the forgotten water, Merlin turned to Morgana, a thank you on his lips.

The words failed, as he saw her though. She was dressed immaculately as always, in muted green today, her skin like porcelain, her hair a sweep of midnight at her back. Her eyes, once a warm blue, had frozen in the time he had known her. Now they reflected a lake in winter, icy, and impassable. She was a constant reminder of his dark side, and it was a bitter sweet ache she inspired in his chest. A smirk twisted her lips. God he hated how she did that, ruining her smile with spite.

"Having a little trouble with the girlfriend there, Merlin?" One of her slim black brows lifted sardonically, and despite knowing he should not become embroiled in a war of words with her, he couldn't resist meeting the challenge in her eyes. Florentine's brother was the courier's stable-hand, and the courier had just returned to Camelot. Merlin had learnt that Gwen's party had been passed en-route and that they should be returning soon. But he wasn't above taunting, Morgana.

"Jealous?" Merlin noted the flinch and was surprised to witness a flash of anger cross her features. Then she schooled her expression again, all sharp poise and angles.

"But of course, Merlin. Who wouldn't be? Florentine is a darling after all." He stifled a smile, wishing her quick wit didn't spark something in him. Wishing she was the same girl whose kindness had captured his imagination so long ago.

"Sadly it appears she prefers me, Morgana." Milady wouldn't cross his lips. They had seen each-other at their worst. Bowing on ceremony was a mockery to that history now. The magic in him sensed hers, and he suppressed it as it rose to greet her, like a primal force looking for its twin. It was a seductive sensation, and he fought it. She was his opposite, he knew that, yet she drew him like a magnet.

Perhaps if things had been different...

"I can't imagine why, Merlin." Now she was approaching, yet his feet didn't scramble away. He stood tall, her heat emanating like a wave, and as wrong as it was, he basked in it. Regret was a cruel edge to his every thought of her, but when they sparred, it was as though history rewrote itself for brief moments, and they were who they had always been, not these new versions, that time and choice had refashioned.

"Who would want such as you? Your hair is wild," she reached out and he started as she stroked the wayward tresses," your frame slender as a reed," her hand fell to his arm, trailing his forearm," your skin pale as snow-"

He caught her wrist, his breathing charged, as her fingers connected with his cheek fleetingly. His magic awoke abruptly, and he shuttered his eyes, unwilling to share the light that he knew flared there, with her.

Never with her now.

"It seems you have spent an awfully long time considering my flaws, Morgana. I hadn't realised you were so short on entertainment. Or is plotting against your family losing its appeal?"

She gasped as he circled her wrist with his hand, and her eyes were no longer chilling as she stared at him. They blazed as blue as the day they met, and a part of him, somewhere deep, crowed with satisfaction. Now she had no words, and only the sound of footsteps coming toward them broke the silent exchange. He let her go as if burnt.

Merlin backed away then, and she watched him leave with hooded eyes. He dismissed the startling thought that she enjoyed their clash, and got a move on. He had dozens of chores left, and Gaius needed assistance to make poultices for those still recovering from injuries sustained during the tournament. But first, he had news for Arthur that would hopefully snap him out of his foul temper. A smile broke his face then, as he reached his masters room. He almost pitied Gwen. Arthur would not take kindly to being reduced to the mess he had been since she left.

He shoved thoughts of the black haired witch from his mind. And his magic flared in protest, before settling once more.

-/-/-/-/-

Arthur shrugged, as nonchalantly as he could manage, though his heart kicked violently in his chest, bruising his ribs he was certain.

"Is there a particular reason you are telling me this, Merlin?" The young man seemed to swallow a retort, and instead, shook his head. Wise move.

"Uhm, I guess not, Sire. Just sharing news because I know you were keen to get-" Arthur flashed him a glare in warning-" your guards back."

" Right. The guards. Well thank you Merlin, that will be all for this evening."

Leave. Just leave.

" But Sire I still have to-"

"Surely you aren't going to pass up an opportunity to drink yourself stupid with Elyan for an evening?" Merlin winced, and Arthur smiled behind his hand he had resting near his mouth. Elyan and Merlin's drinking exploits were all the Knights in training talked of some days. It seemed Merlin made the most of his nights off when able. Elyan had certainly made himself well known about the town since his arrival too.

"You heard about that?" Merlin looked like a child caught red handed, and Arthur sighed, feeling an odd paternal protectiveness for his servant. He nodded, and began to pace, his expression serious.

"Why yes Merlin. I heard about that. " Merlin stood meekly, his hands clasped, and Arthur grinned inwardly. " It would seem that despite the vast collective intellect you and Elyan so obviously share, maths is not a strong point for either of you. A particular drink, what was it called again? Ah yes, the Camelot Crusher, is a cocktail of various, very expensive, imported liquors. Neither you nor Elyan could ever hope to afford quite as much as your stomachs can handle."

"But Sire-" Arthur halted the interruption with a raised hand.

"However, since Gwaine's bill was so generously paid-" He still hadn't quite understood how Merlin had gotten him to relent on that-though Gwen's pleas on his behalf may have helped-" it seems that you can have whatever you wish for, and the bill is simply dispatched to me."

Merlin gulped. Arthur drew it out, feeling cruel.

"Since you have worked hard since your return, and dealt with...more than your usual chores, I will overlook it. And you can have one last drinking session on my purse-but if I see so much as a pickle more than mead on the bill you will regret it, Merlin." He rounded on his servant, features set in mock severity.

Merlin simply beamed at him. He wasn't fooled by Arthur's bribe and Arthur did not care a jot. Leave him alone and keep Elyan occupied? Right, could it be more obvious? For once, Arthur just smiled back at his servant, too excited by Gwen's imminent return to feel self conscious about it. He was a bundle of nerve endings raw and exposed.

She was coming home.

"Right, Sire. I'll be off then." He hovered a moment, still wary of the offer. Arthur resisted the urge to bundle him from the room, and rose up on the balls of his feet, trying to manage his impatience.

" Have a good evening ,Merlin." Finally his familiar frame was at the door, but he stopped and looked back, all cheeky knowingness that made Arthur cringe like a love sick idiot.

"You too, Sire. You too."

Now Arthur did feel self conscious, as Merlin's teasing made him blush like a girl. Finally he was alone with the torrent of emotions the news inspired. Anger flared anew, he hated to feel so reliant on another-yet the joy that coursed through him, knowing he would see her face soon battled the rage, and it confused him, indecision flowing in his blood that pumped quicker at the thought of her touch.

Should he go to her house? Wait here? Throw himself at her and hope she had missed him half as much? Calling himself ten kinds of fool, he looked back on his tortuous day, how short tempered he had been during training, his argument with Sir Leon over deployment rotas for patrols on the borders, and sighed heavily.

It was not easy being in love he realised. Much as he wanted to, he could not put his feelings for Gwen in a bubble, real life was affected by his emotional state, his duties, his responsibilities all suffered whilst he was in this fugue without her. What to do about it, he had no clue. He was sensible enough to know that whilst their feelings had to remain secret, this would not be the first time they would be parted-hell, it hadn't been the first time since he fell for her. But something had changed. Now his hands fisted thinking of her lush curves, and his mind frayed without her comforting presence. He missed so much about her it made his heart ache, her solemn gaze in court as he struggled to resolve the peoples disputes supporting him silently, the glimpse of her skirts down the hall as she hurried about her daily chores...He shook his head, needing clarity.

Yet all he could think of was finding her, dragging her to his bed and branding her as his all over again. Yelling from the battlements that Guinevere was his, and locking her up so she could never leave him again. It bubbled in his veins, anticipation for their reunion, a sweet toxin poisoning him from the inside out, and even as the Prince saw his reaction as reckless, the man in him simply craved her near.

Unable to contain himself as he paced his room, he palmed the key he cherished, and grabbed his cloak. This would not do. Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot should not pine for anything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Details to be found at Chapter One, Beta'd by the fab ElegantPaws. **

"I can't wait to see my Thomas," Lillian declared as they dismounted, and handed the reins to the waiting stable hand. Gwen eyebrows rose in surprise, pretty sure she had seen Lillian sharing a guard's bunk during their trip. She had not heard the pretty brunette mention a Thomas once. Though on reflection, she thought ruefully, she had not exactly chatted about Arthur, well how could she? Even when he had occupied her every waking thought. Wearily she grabbed her pack, knowing that if she could have, she would have spoken of her love all trip long; would have bored Lillian and Margaret to death with it, which was odd, since for all her babble, she revealed little of her true emotions. Yet the idea that she could have let some of the anxiety out was a tantalising one, and she wondered at it. Was she really suddenly a person that divulged such things with others? It annoyed her to think she would change so dramatically. That she would suddenly have this urge to tell the world her innermost desires. It was undignified.

It was un-Gwen.

"I'll take the fabric and other items to Morgana, you girls get home." They threw her grateful looks, and efficiently unpacked the various items collected for their lady on the trip. Of Buttons, lace, gold thread, and the apricot silk. Her travelling companions bid her goodnight, and Lillian boasted about visiting the newly recalled Thomas. It pinched at something sensitive in Gwen and she bit her lip, before a harsh word left her mouth. Instead she smiled tightly and watched them leave, tiredly organising the goods. If she thought she could get away with it, she would simply go home. But Morgana would be icily irritated by the delay already, and Gwen had seen beneath that smile lately, to something cruel. If Morgana heard they had returned, and her wares not produced promptly, her days would be awkwardly spent trying to navigate her lady's mood which would leave her no opportunity to see him.

Gwen left her travelling bag in the stables, figuring she could drop off Morgana's things and return home via the stables. She really couldn't manage it all. Her muscles were protesting even now, having ridden hard all day to try and make time along the lengthier road. She wondered how early she could engineer a visit to Arthur, then cursed herself. He had left Camelot too many times to count these past few years. He hadn't come running to her had he? Yet here she was, some heart trapped idiot, hoping to leap into his arms the moment she returned, as if he had been waiting for her. She smiled at the thought.

Reality hit hard as she bundled up Morgana's finery. The stable smelt like manure and horses and she was sure she reeked of it too, the sodden ground being their bed for several nights since they only had coin enough for a few in the inn. The delay had been unexpected, and none of them exactly carried much in terms of payment. It was eat, or sleep inside, and they all preferred to eat. It had annoyed her that the inn keeper had not considered them worthier guests than the passing warriors travelling home from the tournament she had worried endlessly about. Though it had served as a timely reminder, handmaidens to Morgana or not, they were still just that-servants. Not as important as brutish men in leather who drank endlessly through the night.

Feeling grubby and suddenly very cold, she caught her reflection in the stable window as she passed her arms full of packages. Gods, she winced. Her hair was loose and wild, a streak of dirt was practically embedded upon her cheek and her dress was stuck to her, where perspiration refused to heed her argument that women should simply "glow."

She wanted to run home and scrub herself of the last few days, and as her circumstance struck home, scrub her dreams of Arthur too. How could she ever really believe that they would be together? That he would want her, like this?

Sure, in the moonlight of her bedroom, after weeks and weeks of yearning, perhaps. Caught up in the romance of it, yes, he thought her lovely. Not now. Not ingrained with dirt and smelling like a horse and hair a wild mane that stunk of smoke and damn it, tears flooded her eyes and she dashed them away with the cuff of her dress angrily, trying not to drop the goods on the straw bedding of the stable floor. That would just top her right off she thought with a wobbly smile. Idiot. She was being a sentimental idiot. Feeling sorry for herself would not get her home anymore quickly. It was terrifying to miss someone so. And all too reminiscent of those she missed whom she would never see again.

Praying to the Gods her mother told her about, she requested but one thing; to be invisible as she marched to her mistress' room.

-/-/-/-/-

They met in the hallway.

Both stopped dead, and stared at the other, surprise fading as the atmosphere seemed to throb about them.

Of course we would meet now, Gwen thought sourly, wanting to disappear, wanting to back away, and erase the look in his eyes as he took in her appearance. She watched him wide eyed, her body swaying toward him, a willow bending to water.

He was dressed in red, a brown leather gimlet over his shirt, his blue cloak across his arm. He looked...wonderful. Familiar. Regal. Untouchable. She couldn't breathe as they stared at each other, like rabbits in a hunter's cross hairs, though quite who was the hunter she couldn't discern. She saw the muscles in his jaw tick, witnessed the way his cheekbones sharpened, as he tried to hide his anger. She opened her mouth to speak, but his eyes narrowed, and she had no idea how to greet him.

Why was he angry? Should she be polite? Hurl headlong into his arms? Why wasn't he talking? He had the upper hand here - he always did. She was just a tired and dirty serving girl - and she felt exactly that in the deafening silence.

Everything inside reared up against his scrutiny, and she raised her chin, uncertainty cracking her usual calm. Panic was unravelling her veins, as memories of their night together replayed in her head, through a fog now, drifting out of reach. Oh Gods. Why wasn't he speaking? Was it so shameful to him that he had lain with her, seeing her like this? His eyes were shuttered, and the comfortable silence they had so often shared during small moments of communion felt like a dream; an impossibility. This man was cold, angry. His skin tight and eyes closed to hers.

Gwen imagined time shattering like glass between their stiff poses, as the truth stumbled awkwardly between them. All the blood in her body seemed to drain away in an instant, sending shockwaves through her system, making her knees shake.

He simply stared at her mutely, and she had an urge to scream at him, beat her fists on his chest, kick his legs...anything, anything to garner a reaction other than this wall of uncomfortable tension. She would not give in to her roaring temptation however.

She would not cry.

"Good evening, Sire." She spoke the words so quietly, she almost wondered if she had uttered them, but his head snapped back, and she thought she must have. In all her wild imaginings, she had not envisioned this as their reunion. And for that she was humiliated. Had she not learnt by now that nothing good lasted? He opened his mouth to speak then, but paused, as a guard strolled past. Impatient to run as far from this scene as possible Gwen used the distraction to try to pass him, but his arm shot out and she stilled, not quite allowing his arm to touch her, since if it did she would crumble to pieces and embarrass them both.

"Sire?" His mouth was by her ear, and his query mocking. " So formal, Guinevere." His harsh countenance confused her, and she wanted desperately to wrap her arms about him and whisper hello, but everything about his frame and expression held her back. He stepped back sharply and she almost stumbled into him, barely catching herself.

"I take it your trip was a success?" So angry and contained; she recoiled slightly at his tone. Wondering what had happened to cause it, she searched his face, swallowing nervously. Conscious of being overheard she glanced back at the guard vanishing about the corner, and turned back to him with a weak smile. Words felt like a minefield now, and she navigated them carefully.

"It was mi lord. We encountered unfortunate delays, but I believe Lady Morgana will be pleased with what was purchased." I missed you.

He nodded abruptly, and his coldness hurt. Made her dizzy.

"Clearly, since you are in such a rush to show her the wares." Sniping, she thought, why was he sniping at her? The packages in her arms were all but forgotten as her limbs went numb, but she inclined her head, anger flashing in her now, replacing the chill his behaviour inspired.

"Well Sire, it has taken me five days to retrieve them. I am sure milady is anxious to discover all is well with the choices we made." Gwen looked him in the eye and flared her nostrils, letting her tone betray her confusion.

"Quite right, Guinevere. As always, your priorities are in perfect order." What did that mean? Now he was fidgeting. Her blood began to boil. So what if she looked terrible? Did that really merit this?

"Why thank you, Sire. How kind of you to bestow the royal seal of approval on my work. I shan't keep you, since you obviously have somewhere important you wish to be." She made to curtsy.

"Not particularly... no." He was advancing again, brows furrowed and mouth set. "If you dare to bend you knee to me Guinevere I swear I'll-"

" You'll what?" She straightened anyway, wanting to shout now, despite the insanity of arguing with the Prince of Camelot in the halls of his castle. She met his gaze, all defiance, and he was only inches from her, breathing hard and staring at her with a closed expression. Feeling stripped of all dignity, Gwen wanted to hurt him, and then wondered at that. How could she want to hurt him, after spending the last week thinking of him non-stop? It was absurd, this cycle of emotion spinning through her. It made her brittle. And she would not break again.

"Guinevere, do not test me or so help me-" His voice was deep, his eyes blue and his jaw clenched so tightly she grew fearful it may crack, but his words were cut off as another pair of guards clattered down the corridor, and cursing the air blue, Arthur caught her arm in a firm grasp and pulled her along in his wake.

"What on earth are you doing?" She hissed in astonishment, her blood boiling the second he laid his hand on her. She tried to drag her arm back, but Arthur would heed none of it. Her wriggling finally caught his attention as she tugged harder and he stopped short, letting her barrel into him, the packages forming a barrier between their chests. His face was unreadable.

"Do you want to get caught?" The query was clipped, and Gwen frowned, confused by-well everything. "Didn't think so. Once more in the cells and they'll name a wing after you I am sure."

His chamber door was in front of her and she was being pushed inside without ceremony as she tried to summon a suitably pithy response. But his off-hand remark rang in her head, her times in the dungeons still raw, and none sprang to mind. As soon as the door closed behind them, she span on him in a fury, flinging Morgana's parcels to his table and crossing her arms across her chest. Arthur folded his own arms, and leant with his back to his door, legs casually crossed, his cloak abandoned to the floor. His stance barred her way. His eyes were pitch dark and she wanted to cry. She was dirty, tired and vulnerable. She wanted to go home.

"I demand you release me at once, Sire." Stop looking at me like that. I didn't want you to see me yet. You've ruined it.

He raised an eyebrow, completely unmoved, a veritable wall. Her heart pounded, and she wished she had let Lillian take the packages, wished she had ran home instead of letting this happen. Whatever this was. She strove for calm, though her heart was screaming.

"I must take Lady Morgana her things, she has been waiting-"

"Ah, waiting. Morgana has been waiting for her silks and ribbons, how bloody tortuous that must have been for her. However has she coped? We couldn't possibly have her wait a moment longer could we?" Arthur was absolutely incensed, and Gwen stepped backwards, shying from his quite glorious temper as his skin lit from within, and his blonde cap of hair shone in the candle light.

" I-" Gwen drew in a deep breath. "No."

His eyes were a fierce bright blue, and she could see him again. And all at once a smile blistered inside her and burst, as realisation dawned. Oh.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and now they stood in the well lit chamber she could see his eyes were smudged. Oh.

"Right. Well as long as we have our order of priorities settled then." He didn't look up, and the rage seemed to dissipate with each syllable as he spoke. Till he just sounded...sad. Oh.

Her anger melted into something else, something achy and hopeful.

"I had hoped milady would be suitably pleased and distracted by her dress fittings so that I could slip away."

His head stilled, as if listening closely, though it remained bowed, his hands clenched at his forearms. Gwen took a small step forward and sincerely hoped she hadn't gotten this completely wrong.

"You see, I was hoping to..." faltering, she released her arms and wrung her hands. This was hard.

"Go on." A deep rumble of an order. Her abdomen clenched, and her skin tingled. There he was.

Her Arthur.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Beta'd by ElegantPaws, rather excellently. :D **

Tell him.

Her inner voice was stern, and she knew it was right. But she had uttered words once before when emotion and circumstance had run high and gratitude and fear had led her tongue. The recollection made her wince knowing what she did. Yet this was different - so very different. Arthur would not disappear. These words were real. Nerves knotted in her stomach. Despite her fresh understanding of Arthur's mood, it made his cool reception no easier to bear. Oh but it was harder than she could have believed, with him so close and yet so far. The blonde crown of his head spoke to so much she had clung to, it cut through her stung vanity. His bent posture and hidden eyes reflected her own fear, and her heart expanded with renewed courage.

Tell him.

"I was hoping to slip away to find you." The words hung in the air between them and her throat caught, as if filled with rocks. "I wanted-"

"Did you miss me?"

So quiet, his words were so quiet, but thick with the dwindling anger of before and his eyes were still averted. Gwen couldn't swallow past the lump in her throat. Her skin hummed, as the intensity between them heightened, and she had a moment to recognise this was madness, but he was hurting and that mattered more right now.

"Of course I did." It came out as a broken whisper, and Gwen closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. It was painful to feel the intensity of his uncertainty as the weight of his heart lay beside her own, like a wild untamed thing seeking solace.

Taking a deep hiccupy breath she opened her eyes, and let out a startled gasp to find he had lifted his head, and was now staring directly at her, stripping her secrets with his diamond bright gaze. His mouth was still tight, and she reached to her cheek and the dirt streak there self consciously before clasping her hands. Now was not the time for such frivolous concerns.

"How much?" His eyebrows rose as he made the demand, his expression still controlled and now she frowned. His request hurt inexplicably. Reassurance was one thing, but she would not pet his ego just because his pride was bruised. She was still tender from his frosty welcome, no matter its cause. Gwen turned and began to pick up the packages, more than a little bruised herself.

" Arthur, I should go. I am tired-" heart sore-" and my being here is-" Dangerous. Foolish. Painful. Wonderful. Confusing. She sighed.

"I couldn't sleep without you."

He was stalking toward her now, and she backed up against the table she was collecting Morgana's things from, letting them fall again as he reached her. Her heart slammed at her ribcage so loud she was sure he heard the bones rattle. His eyes were black, and voice low, and his shoulders and chest so broad and close she could curl her hands on him if she reached up. Instead she focused on what he was saying and found her voice.

"Really? That wasn't quite the impression I got earlier-"

"God Gwen don't." It was a groan right from the depth of him, and he dropped his head, resting his chin on her curls and wrapping his arms about her in an all encompassing embrace. Unable to cling to her anger at him, not now, she nestled in and wrapped her arms about his waist, and the resulting shudder of relief that ran through both their frames said more than a thousand words could have.

But Gwen knew they needed saying before anxiety and doubt ruined something so new and fragile and real. His breathing was steady under her cheek, his heart beat hypnotic. Being in his arms, having it feel just as right, if not more so, than before - it gave her courage. They may stumble through this, and it may not always be pretty, but she had to believe the feelings were true, and would survive harsh words and misunderstandings. More than anyone they needed that level of trust.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Arthur when I was-"

Nervous chuckling followed the verbal clash, and Arthur raised his chin from her head and bent to kiss her cheek. It sent spirals of longing straight to her hips as his lips brushed her heated skin.

She seized on the moment as his eyes caught hers to speak, knowing that if she didn't, his apology would tug too hard at her desire to soothe and they would end up in a tangle of limbs when they needed understanding. She could feel the urgency in him, felt it rise within her in response, to meet the longing his eyes expressed.

" I always miss you, " she blurted, bunching his shirt in her hands at his back, " whenever you are gone from the castle I think about you all the time, worry that you've done something stupidly heroic and gotten yourself hurt or worse; I can't think straight till the court hears the reports from your scouts and-" oh god she may as well confess all now she thought recklessly as his eyes darkened anew and his lips parted," sometimes I visit your room," her voice now a hoarse whisper as she blushed," just to be near your things, near to you, even though you aren't here."

" Guinevere I -"

The knock on the door made them both jump. Terror charged through Gwen and Arthur immediately turned to shield her behind him, not before placing a finger to his lips. She rolled her eyes at him, eliciting a fierce quick grin despite the precarious situation.

"Who is it?"

No answer was forthcoming, but another tap on the door had Arthur sweeping her across the room.

"Hold on."

He ushered her to his dressing partition, and she stood behind it, knees gone to water, as he continued calling out to the door, whilst stripping of his gimlet and shirt. Her eyes widened at his show, and he threw a hot glance at her when he caught her peeking, before he dragged on a soft hose and mussed up his hair. "I'm trying to sleep. Who is it?"

"Merlin, Sire."

Merlin? Gwen remained hidden, but reminded herself that she needed a serious talk with her friend. There had been no time when he returned in time for the tournament, since she had been sent away almost straight after. They had hugged and exchanged quick greetings and that was it. But she hadn't forgotten her niggling curiosity during his absence, nor the ear bashing he deserved for making her a message service. Margaret had also been fairly talkative about his drinking games with Elyan too. Yes, she decided, she would have a long talk with Merlin when the chance arose.

"Merlin? I thought I told you-"

"Let me in Sire, please, its important."

Gwen wondered what Merlin would say if he discovered her in Arthur's room, and blushed from head to toe just thinking of the cheeky wink he would no doubt cast her way. Knees still trembling she kept quiet, and strained to hear what was going on, as she thought she heard Arthur muttering about tact and imbeciles as he creaked the door open.

-/-/-/-/-

Arthur was a heaving mass of need, and much as he was becoming to view Merlin as a friend as opposed to staff, he wanted to throttle the young man right now, and forced his temper to remain under wraps, as he cracked open the door biting out a surly, " What?" as he did.

Merlin barged past him immediately, and with a cautious glance toward his dressing partition, Arthur rested his hands on his hips in an effort to stop him making fists as he rounded on the impertinent invader.

" Merlin what the hell are you doing? I thought we had an agreement?" The last came out as an urgent whisper, and he swallowed, feeling exposed as Gwen could no doubt hear every word. Though her own confession was still ringing in his ears, and making his blood bubble with relief and desire. She had missed him, really missed him. The affirmation both inflamed and soothed him, an intoxicating combination that filled his head with images of her naked, and being branded as his, again and again.

"Sorry about that, Sire." Merlin's furtive searching look about the chamber did not go unnoticed, and Arthur had no intention of allowing him that particular secret. It was his and Gwen's.

Private.

Special.

"Well? Do I get an explanation or is this yet another of your highly annoying-"

"I was helping Gaius finish off the supplies for the warriors still in his care," Merlin interrupted in a rush, his eyes lighting up as they landed on the discarded packages. Arthur withheld an internal groan as he saw Merlin make the connection. This could get awkward. Merlin may be incompetent at times, but he was a shrewd operator mostly. Arthur decided to ignore the obvious. Stood tall, and dared Merlin to pass comment.

"And?" His tone was glacial, and he hoped Merlin got the hint. The last thing he wanted was for Gwen to feel compromised, and though they were friends, a lady's honour was a sacred thing, and he had no wish for her to feel her standing was diminished in her friend's eyes. It mattered to her a great deal, he knew that.

"Sire," a conspiratorial murmur that told him Merlin was under no illusions, he was aware that Gwen was in the room.

Arthur felt a pang of fierce pride and outright male ownership at the thought, warring with his need to cover for Gwen, which was irrational, but he still recalled how close Gwen and Merlin were once, and suffered jealous flashes when he witnessed their easy affection and companionship. They could laugh and touch without censure, without judgement or consequence. He struggled with a hot flare of anger at Merlin, and tried to listen intently to his servant's babbling, even as the overwhelming need to throw him from the room and drag Gwen to the bed roared in him. He focused with a swift shake of his head.

"I was delivering the remedies to the infirmary and on the way I heard Morgana's stand in maid panicking and looking for Gwen."

" What? Why?" Arthur's muscles turned to ice as he crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. Merlin looked at him knowingly, and Arthur cleared his throat. Morgana was starting to be a real irritation.

" She knows they are back, as one of the girls Margaret forgot to unpack something and took it straight to Lady Morgana's room. She said that Gwen had taken the goods they collected to deliver them to Lady Morgana and since she has not shown up, things are being implied."

"Implied? What things?" Arthur hated the tattle tale court and the viciousness of it, and now it sounded as though the serving staff were just as guilty of the same pettiness. He ignored the gossip and tales shared with distaste usually, but this concerned Gwen. The need to protect her from such spiteful politics over rode his longing to make Merlin vanish and have his way with her.

"It's silly," Merlin dismissed, obviously not wishing to divulge the details. Arthur frowned at him, and Merlin sighed in exasperation. "Margaret is a smart girl, an ambitious girl. Let's just say Gwen's integrity is being doubted."

Thievery? Arthur blanched, shocked and hurt on Gwen's behalf. It was ridiculous.

" Surely, Morgana cannot possibly believe that Gwen would-"

"I have no idea, Sire. I think not. It's just that positions can be lost over such implications, and when one's trustworthiness is tarnished, well things could become difficult for Gwen, unless we fix it. Quickly."

"Who is this maid implying such outrageous notions? I swear I'll-"

" Sire, this is life in the castle. It is a cut throat business getting and keeping coveted positions. Gwen is always having to work harder than most and watch out for herself since...well there have been occasions when-"

" Enough." Arthur felt the colour drain from his face, and a hard rock span in his chest where his heart had been beating mere moments before. He was an ignorant oaf at times he thought, picturing Gwen rushing down the hall to Morgana's rooms looking so beautiful and real...recalling the blast of hurt pride and bitterness that she could even think of such things as her duty as maid whilst he physically ached for her return. This was all his fault. Oh Gods, he felt his stomach twist. So much had happened to Gwen that was all his fault. He sneaked a glance to where she hid, shame filling his throat as he tried to speak, wanting to hold her, comfort her after hearing how her so called friends could turn on her so.

Then he pictured her, head held high, walking home alone night after night, and the reasons he had attributed the independent spirit he saw in her determined gait. No doubt his Gwen wanted to prove fear was not her master, and by her very presence here she proved that ten times over - but his heart ached suddenly, at the stark understanding, that perhaps the choice of walking home alone, being brave, hadn't been one that she had actively made-it was simply what she had to do. To keep her distance from those whom she worked with, that would use her every weakness to their advantage.

The lump in his throat was so painful he couldn't breathe. She deserved so much more than this.

" How do we fix it?" He stared at Merlin, knowing that his question came out as a desperate plea, that his eyes were shining a little too brightly. He could not worry about his own image. Gwen's was in far more peril.

"Easily, Sire." Merlin grinned confidently, and gathered up the packages on the table, bold as you please. Arthur spluttered and uncrossed his arms, even as his servant just looked at him, with large wise eyes. Arthur kept quiet as he watched on, since arguing about how Merlin even knew those were the missing packages would directly lead to information they were both fairly gallantly trying to avoid saying out loud. He had known the instant he saw them Arthur realised ruefully.

"I'll take these to Morgana. Explain how I bumped into Gwen and kept her talking, and how I offered to deliver them since Gwen looked so very tired. Wouldn't take no for an answer. And that I got waylaid en-route."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, impressed, and also relieved. He put his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"And if they need to see Gwen?" Worry may not be a wise counsel, Arthur thought, thinking of Gwen's words to him once, but it was certainly an all consuming one. His nerves were shot.

"Oh I doubt they will. I'll be very persuasive about her fatigue Sire and her need to be undisturbed, very persuasive." He managed to make the plan as suggestive as humanly possible and Arthur felt his cheeks flame, and eyes scatter to Gwen's hiding place. The excitement he had experienced upon seeing her earlier was now edged with something darker, deeper. It scared him, the amount of emotion trying to explode from his chest. He wanted to hunt down the maid trying to impugn her integrity and tell her exactly who she was toying with. Gwen.

His Guinevere. Future Queen of bloody Camelot.

"Fine - if you think that will work." He dragged his mind back from his imagined berating of the other maid, and looked Merlin in the eye.

"Oh it will work. I'm Merlin remember? Castle buffoon?" He said it with a quick smile, but Arthur caught something faintly bitter in his servant's eyes, and felt as though this evening he was getting a lesson in the working class psyche. It made his head hurt frankly, and pulled at the Knight in him, the one who upheld justice, and fairness. Gratitude for Merlin swelled in his chest.

" Merlin."

Merlin was at the door, juggling the parcels in a far less graceful manner than Gwen had.

"Thank you. I appreciate what you are doing for Gwen tonight and for me."

Merlin's eyes all but popped from his skull, and the tips of his ears shaded a dramatic pink. Arthur shifted uncomfortably. After checking the corridor for passers-by, just in case, Merlin made his escape, before popping his head back around the door, wearing the grin Arthur knew so well.

"You are welcome, Sire. And so is Gwen."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Beta'd by ElegantPaws. who is a bit fab.**

"Is it safe to come out yet?" Gwen stepped from her location, trying to lighten the mood that had descended upon the room since Merlin's interruption. Arthur tried to smile, but she saw it falter, and sighed. The intimacy building between them had been dashed. He had been well and truly reminded of just how disparate their standings were now, just as they were opening up to each other. He stared at her, then deliberately turned and locked his door, casting a glance her way as he hefted the wooden slat, and she could only nod, as he accepted her consent and slid the wooden slat into place, locking them in and others out.

The moment pulsed, and then he cleared his throat, regal and handsome with his hands behind his back as he faced her fully.

"I take it you heard all that?" Arthur's tone was gruff but kind and Gwen nodded with a small smile, unsure what her response should be. Such unseemly machinations should not really be aired for the Prince, but she was grateful for Merlin's intervention, despite what Arthur may now think of them. So cunning, Margaret had been so nice on the trip too-not overly friendly, but the girls actions still stung. It had also been a little thrilling to witness Arthur so fierce on her behalf, though she chided herself for thinking it. She had fought her own battles for most of her life, it wouldn't do to become used to a shoulder to lean on, much as she craved it.

"Yes. Merlin is a good friend." She looked up at Arthur, and he was walking toward her, an intent expression on his face. She let him come, wanting him to reach her, greedily wanting some last contact before she had to leave. It was a selfish want, but she was able to admit it, and allow herself the weakness, for a moment. He was a tall and imposing figure as she watched him close the gap, but she could feel hesitation in his tense frame, it was like a buzzing in her ears as she waited, and with every step, her skin tightened in anticipation of his proximity.

He paused inches, (miles) away, and the connection that coursed across the space between them crackled, heating up as the atmosphere shifted. She wondered if it would always be like this, if the energy that their longing created would always run so true and hot. It was difficult to imagine feeling any other way with his lips and eyes so close. Wouldn't she always yearn for more?

"What you were saying before." Lord his eyes were blue as he searched her face, and once again her hand rose to hide the dirt, flushing under his scrutiny, but he caught her hand, and kissed it, as a lord would a lady.

His lips were soft at the back of her hand, and sparks started to gather in her veins. Bubbles were forming in the pit of her stomach, as she discovered it impossible to tear her eyes from his. His fingers were warm and smooth about hers as he twined them together. Be brave Gwen.

"Oh, the thing about missing you?" His lashes lowered, and cast spiky shadows on his cheekbones. She liked the way his mouth parted a little, wanting to kiss him, but needing him to share her honesty first. She heated at the direction her thoughts skipped to. All or nothing she decided, the pyre meant for her flickering wildly in her mind's eye. Pushing it away she leant forward, all thoughts of how she must look gone as she saw his intense gaze. He just saw her. Gwen; as she saw only Arthur.

" Yes. That thing about missing me." His slow smile transformed his features from merely handsome, to something achingly special, all golden hair and strong jaw, and his teasing tone only added to the temptation. She bit her lip, determined not to be the first to break. Because this now felt like a challenge, a very delicious challenge, as his eyes drifted repeatedly to her lips, and the fingers threaded with hers began to squeeze.

"Ah, I think I may have overstated it a little," she added boldly, letting her desire flash in her eyes, and relishing the bright flare that responded. Just a moment more she told herself, and then she would go.

"Really?" Now he cocked his head, apparently mulling over her admission thoughtfully. A trail of fire began snaking its way up her spine, as his thumb stroked her captured hand, and he let his eyes linger on her mouth. "That's a pity, Guinevere."

Gods now he was using that voice, the one he seemed to use only for her name, specially crafted to make her insides pulse and thighs ache. Her ears filled with his voice, their shared staccato breathing the only other sound she could hear, as if the world had fallen silent and turned its head to give them privacy.

" Oh? And why is that?" Any moment now, she thought, breathing hard as he bent toward her lips, letting her eyelids flutter down. Perhaps just one kiss before she left and then-

"Because I missed you so much it made my bones hurt," his low words caressed her lips, the hot moist air as he spoke like delicate steam kissing her and she was swaying, eyes half closed as she watched his golden head hover so close, she could see the star burst of various blues in his irises. His confession made her heart stutter.

"I missed you so much I thought time was going backwards just to torture me." His lips brushed hers fleetingly as he continued his spellbinding confession, silk on silk, and she felt her breasts strain at her bodice, as if desperate for some sweet words too. Every pore of her body opened as if to welcome him in, and the idea of leaving this room, right now, became laughable.

"I missed your smile." She couldn't prevent the smile that engendered, wanting to duck her head, thrilled and also overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. Her heart stretched that bit wider to give him more space, as she realised that this was not an imbalanced courting at all, despite her surety to the contrary. He felt it just as deeply as she. Gwen had become a wet knot of need just having him breathe on her for goodness sake. She couldn't move to discover if he reacted as strongly, enraptured as she was.

"I missed your laugh." He was closer, stepping up to her body, though only their hand was touching, palm to palm, fingers through fingers. She felt like they were dancing, as she began to spin internally. Her heart beat synced to the pulse she felt in his thumb on her skin, as if they were aligning, becoming one.

"I missed the way your eyes melt to amber when you are angry." Dear God she was lost to him, and could only open her eyes wide to stare at him, drink him in as reality departed and there was only now, this moment as he continued his gravel toned seduction. He bent his head, his pale skin skimming her heated velvet soft cheek, the flash of contact made incendiary as he closed his eyes to breathe her in, and his eyelashes swept against her charged skin. The light tickle caused an avalanche of reaction to surge along her veins, setting her alight, branding her somewhere deep inside. Words were impossible, and she felt her lips crack, licking them quickly with her tongue, needing air, needing him.

His breath blew at her in short hard bursts as he witnessed the small but inflammatory motion.

" I missed your pink tongue and soft lips," his voice dropped another octave, and now she was squirming as her nervous system over loaded and she shivered, as goose bumps exploded along her bare skin. Unable to control herself she tipped her head, letting their cheeks rub, their noses slide at each other, willing to lose the challenge if it meant he would kiss her, take her, fill up the aching space inside that only wanted him.

"I missed your amber bright skin against mine," her eyes were drawn along with his to watch their ever twisting hand, and their foreheads swivelled as one to return to their face to face stance. He caught her other hand to repeat the sensual caress of palm on palm, and now she was boneless and at his mercy, but she didn't feel powerless, in fact she felt imbued with strength, as though she held him in her hands and not the other way around. A strange sense of elation swept her, and winning meant nothing as she basked in his scent.

"I missed the way you feel beneath me." Urgency stained his voice and she was stepping back as he pushed gently at her hands, now they were moving as one, eye-to-eye, neither looking away. Gwen abandoned her cautious nature, all reservation fleeing as desire turned to chains that linked them, unbreakable, un-doubtable, unrivalled by anything that had passed between them before. This was not soft, this was steel and strong and as her back hit the wall beside his bed, she let him press in, tight and hard under his clothes.

He raised their joined hands high above her head, trailing his other hand to her wrist to pin her there, and she shook with anticipation, knowing that once his lips touched hers, she wasn't leaving this room till they were both satisfied. And that could take an eternity.

-/-/-/-/-

As her back hit the wall Arthur's resolve snapped and his mouth descended, capturing her willing lips in a kiss, hardening to rock as he heard her moan, her wrists warm and satiny smooth under his palm as he held her pinned, ploughing his erection into the folds of her dress, searching for the wet centre he could almost hear pulsing for him.

Her tongue met his stroke for stroke, and the kiss became an intimate foreshadowing of what was to come, teeth nipping tender raw flesh, mouths wide open, taking each other in. His head started to hammer as the kiss grew wilder, and the noises Gwen made caused his hips to surge forward, as she became a bundle of hot wet beauty snapping his control beyond all endurance. He needed her now. Her teeth trailed sinful nips along the underside of his jaw as he broke the kiss, desperate for air, for some measure of patience, as her body twisted sinuously against the wall. God he had wondered late at night if their union at her home had been a dream, but now she was panting at his throat, licking at the sensitive skin behind his ear as he leant in to bury his face at her neck, so real he thought his cock would explode before he even touched her as he wanted.

The way she deserved.

"I missed this." Her words stunned him as she caught his eyes in a heated offering, and he swallowed as his entire body began to uncoil. She was beautiful. And she wanted him with the same fervour he had thought would shock her, make her see him as vulgar, to be a slave to such passion.

Yet she made it anything but, she transformed his base yearnings into a thing of magic, a potent talent he found himself enthralled by. Choked by her trust, he kissed her hard, telling her all he could in the sweep of his tongue, the pressure of their slick lips, his hands pushing her arms into the wall, stretching her so that her breasts surged forward, into his chest, shattering him.

"I forgot." He gasped the words, pulling her left arm from the wall to drape it over his shoulder. Gwen was his. The sharp shaft of pain that had met her news weeks before, that no child had been produced by their first pairing, speared him all over again as her hand curled at his neck, threading through the hairs at his nape. He was too scared to ask if she had been as disappointed-irresponsible as the thought was.

"Forgot what?" Her voice was honey and her lips dewy and parted. Her skin glowed with an inner fire that lit her exotic colouring with a peachy sheen he found impossible to resist. He had no idea how he had not always seen it, recognised her as his other half. It was so obvious. He used his now free hand to find her waist, and slip to her back, lifting her backside easily, his erection straining as his palm caressed her delicious rump, even as her mouth suckled at his throat, her chin nudging his hose aside as she searched for his chest.

"Your eyes," Arthur ran his hand over the small of her back, tugging at the fabric, wanting to shred the barriers between them. He felt her hair tickling his throat, his face, the curls so uniquely Gwen, no one had her midnight curls, he could smell the outdoors in her hair and it spurred him on; his back stiffening, his cock pushing ever forward in its quest for home. Her tongue lapped at the patch of chest she had uncovered, flattening the rough hair there and it sent fire bolts to his groin. Now he was using his free hand to tug at his pants, letting them fall, kicking them away, her skirts slipping at his thighs, spinning him off kilter.

She looked up, directly at him, small white teeth flashing against the caramel of her skin. He kept the eye contact, transfixed as he dragged her remaining pinned arm to his other shoulder, sliding both hands to her backside, tugging her up the wall.

"What about them? They shouldn't be amber right now." She grinned, and it lifted his heart, as he settled her backside high on the wall, stepping in, pushing her skirts up, while never losing her eyes.

And there it was the secret that woke him to a cold sweat night after night. She moved at him, no restraint, and her legs were free, and his palms stroking her silken thighs as he pulled them upwards, to his waist, taking her weight as he planted his feet. Gwen was wrapped at his waist now, her hands about his neck, back to the wall. He took a moment to savour the sights, the sounds and the scent of her arousal. She was breathing hard with anticipation as he let his freed cock slide against her core, knowing full well that making it to his bed was a goal he would never achieve now. He could feel her soaked underwear and it was a lightning strike, and he was about to shift his weight to free a hand when she let one hand fall from his neck.

"When I'm inside you," Dimly he could hear his blood pounding along his veins, thundering to the tip of his cock as it nudged her, and his body shuddered as she buried her hand and slim fingers between their joined hips, eyes never wavering from his, and he felt her stroke his smooth hot peak as her fingers caught the soaked cotton that lay in the way of him sliding in, sliding deep.

Oh Christ, he couldn't think any more, as she pulled the barrier aside and he was brushing her curls, wet for him. Clamping his teeth hard he paused, letting his blood settle before his hips ground hers and waited for her to guide him in, only to find her hand back at his neck, nails digging in as he slid inside her silky, soft slit without aid, smooth and hard.

He swore aloud, his head snapping back as pure heat scorched him. Dizzy, he snapped his face back to hers, his lips at her neck as she crawled up the wall with each thrust his hips made, as if by memory, as he gave up control and let his body free fall.

"When I'm inside you," it was a grunt, but he didn't care, as his hips charged and her wet tight cleft swallowed him whole, "your eyes are golden."

And they were flashing like candle flames at him, licking him, driving him to the edge. But then she was swivelling at his waist, using the wall at her back to anchor her as she rode him, and when she breathed his name, he closed his eyes, since watching her as he took her against the wall, skirts hoisted, still clothed, his bare backside getting kissed by the draft in the room even as his cock scorched was just too much, and he was on the brink of coming, and he didn't think he could stop if her eyes were on him. Knew he couldn't.

Christ she was so wet and tight and wrapped her legs at his waist like she was born to it, her hands at his neck tugging sweetly as he thrust hard and she took it, matching his strength with an inner strength that she flexed about him like a fist. He was a hammer and she his anvil as he drove as deep as he could and she let him, rising to it, grinding at him. He had filled her, felt her walls, knew that she could take no more but she was moaning his name and riding him harder, faster and he ached to please her, feed her need for more, even as he felt himself swelling, tasting the salt of her sweat dewed skin as he licked her, kissed her, owned her as she owned him.

He took his hands from her hips where they gripped tight, and spread his legs to balance the weight, entranced by her ability to rise and fall without his hands holding her. The dislodged skirts of her dress slid at his stomach, the texture a satin kiss that heightened each thrust, and he wanted her naked, but there was no holding back now, he was taking her hands from his neck and with a clench of his buttocks he stepped closer as he lifted her hands to the wall once more, letting her stretch under his chest, her breasts soft and firm crushed under his chest.

Gwen was biting hard at her lip and he licked the full bottom lip, feeling feral as he saw the gold in her eyes sharpen hypnotising him. He was so deep he could hardly pull back with each thrust, sheathed in her succulent, tight passage. It was a tunnel to heaven and he was soaring through her, flying as she squeezed his hips and whispered his name.

His climax hit hard when she leant forward and kissed him open mouthed and reckless, her passion tipping him over, and she swallowed the cry that escaped his lungs as he pumped hot inside her, kissing her back, smashing mouth and mouth, wanting her to know as his hips kicked and orgasm shot to his head that he knew what he was doing, that it was no accident. She would be his wife, his Queen, and the mother of his children. Nothing else would do. And then she yanked her hand hard from the wall and gripped his shoulder with a small powerful grip as she shuddered and stretched where they were joined, a sensuous wave rolling through her curves as she came too, and he left his hand flat to the wall as he pressed his forehead to her hair, kissing her smoky sweet curls, as her own juices joined his, making their thighs sticky and hot and perfect.

Completely perfect.

-/-/-/-/-

They remained at the wall for a long time as breathing resumed its usual pace, and Gwen sighed as Arthur nuzzled her neck, as if not wishing to leave her skin alone for a moment. No longer joined, but still wrapped in each other, Gwen wanted it to last, wishing she could harness her recklessness and somehow make this last.

She could hardly believe what they had done, and butterflies flapped in her tummy.

Unwilling, but sense finally making an appearance, she began to wriggle, needing to gather herself together, before sneaking to her house. Her empty house. It made her heart hurt thinking of it. Glancing at his bed, she wondered if she would ever wake in his arms in a bed, the time no issue, discovery no matter. The memory of him in her house was a sweet one she cherished.

"Arthur." He moaned as she let her skirts fall back into place, his hand at her waist still, stroking, holding. His physical ardour was like a drug in her system, but she had to clear her head, had to go.

"Arthur, I have to go." The apology was ripe in her tone and she checked it, after all it was not her fault she had to go. No matter how much she yearned to stay. She felt him still at her neck, and anxiety swamped her. She had let him take her against his wall. Still dressed. But her insides still bubbled with the afterglow of his sex inside her, and she hoped his opinion of her hadn't lessened because of her uninhibited display.

"What are you saying?" Drowsy eyes studied hers, his query warm.

"I have to go, Sire." She made certain he heard her teasing tone, cupping his face as she made the term an endearment and not an insult to what they had done.

"You aren't going anywhere." A lazy smile lit his face, and Gwen swallowed nervously. The castle seemed to hum all around her, and she felt her chest constrict.

" Arthur I-"

"Am not going anywhere, I know." Oh lord he was kissing her again. And she was losing herself in his mouth, as if she hadn't kissed him in weeks, wrapping her arms tight about his neck.

"I can't stay." Regret, gentle and sweet hummed through her as she tore herself away.

"Actually you can. It's my room, I give you permission." How could she resist this Arthur? This loving, teasing, gorgeous man holding her and kissing her passionately, intent on making her believe in happy ever after.

"Arthur," She let him capture her lips again, allowed his tongue to plunder her mouth, letting him persuade her, because she really wanted to be persuaded.

"I happen to know that the first person to knock on my door in the morning will very definitely not notice you leaving." A bite on her neck, and she was aching again.

"Really? And you know this how?"

"Because my friend is the perfect servant for such an occasion, not that he needs to know that."

For some reason, his acknowledgement of Merlin as his friend did things to her heart she couldn't explain and she hugged him close, kissing him between the talk.

"And what, pray tell, makes for a perfect servant in this instance?"

"Ah ha." He lifted her easily, and she was on the bed, the curtains loosed, Arthur padding about the room to blow out his lanterns, letting the dark fall. She propped herself up on one elbow, and watched him.

Loved him.

"A well guarded secret Guinevere, one you must learn for when you are Queen." Her heart lurched as he prowled across the bed, and he was kissing her again, her dress finally being removed. Now she smelt of him, and all worries about her appearance were quashed as he brought a damp cloth to her face, and he tenderly wiped her clean.

"Well share it then," she giggled as his hands found her bare stomach, drifting up to her breasts.

"One who sees all," he dropped a kiss on the curve of her tummy, and she melted, "but says nothing."

"Well if you are so confident perhaps I could stay a while longer," she murmured, promising herself to be awake before dawn and the castle bells.

" Guinevere."

" Yes?"

" I missed you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Note: An enormous thanks to ElegantPaws, who has done more than you could ever know in order to get this finished, beta'd it, nourished it, and all round generally been a totally awesome human being these last few weeks. I'm pretty sure she was one before, I just got the effect now that's all. :D**

They woke together, in the early hours. Eyes blinking open to the dim light of the room, finding each other easily in the dark. Feeling the soft weight of Gwen's breasts against his chest, and her satiny legs entwined with his, satisfied something deep inside of Arthur. For the first time, in too long for him to admit without opening up old wounds that had no place here and now, he felt complete.

Lying in his chamber, with Gwen intimately wrapped about him, Arthur felt the pressures of the days without her lift. The endless training, the eyes of youths he was charged with forging into living weapons, and the knowledge that no amount of training could counter the experience of Cenred's men...he closed his eyes and breathed deep. He wouldn't allow such thoughts to spoil this moment, to taint this temporary sanctuary. Yet they crowded his head, and he cursed himself for allowing them the slightest purchase.

Gwen's fingers drew lazy circles on his chest, and he swallowed, as her finger tips eased the vibrations in his chest. As if understanding that outside forces were encroaching on this sacred space they shared, Gwen shifted onto her stomach beside him, and turned her amber eyes on his, leaning on her elbow to allow her other arm free reign over his torso.

"Tell me." The soft order made him smile. Gwen had a way of seeing him beyond the façade he fashioned to make it through the day. She saw below the bark, and to the fear that instigated it. It was humbling, but also, after the explosive confusion of their earlier reunion, the realisation that she saw all that and cared so deeply anyway...he felt accepted. It was a feeling that imbued him with faith. A faith he had never experienced on such an intimate level with himself before. Still, he stalled with the query, not willing to lose the languorous communion they were experiencing to discuss the outside world and its problems.

"I thought I had shown you pretty explicitly already, Guinevere." He smiled at her, letting his hand trail her lower back, her cool skin soft beneath his coarse finger tips. She moved in closer, and his heart hitched. He could live like this. Not that he had the freedom to make such a choice right now. Perhaps it was selfish, to expect so much for so little in return?

Gwen reached up and dropped a kiss on his heart, looking up from beneath thick lashes. Her lips tickled his chest hair, pressing against his skin.

"Arthur Pendragon, I do believe you are trying to distract me." Her sweet smile and mockingly severe tone soothed him. His hand drifted to her naked rear. His hand spread, and he cupped her close.

"I want this night to be about us, not about my cursed obligations Gwen," he was beseeching, and wondered at how she had such power over him. How she could call forth such honesty.

She pressed fleeting kisses along his torso up toward his throat, lighting a slow burning fire in his groin he would have thought impossible after the intensity of their earlier coupling. Apparently his hunger for her did not diminish but flourish with each new touch.

"You are the summation of all those obligations Arthur," she advised him wisely, even as her tongue teased his jaw. He stretched, letting his hand slip further down her rear, letting his fingers find the warm skin of her inner thighs. Her words filtered through the haze her caresses created. "Let me help you with them. I want to help you."

"I-" He hissed as her tongue found the sensitive spot behind his ear, sending flash currents of lightning through his nerve endings. As her mouth stoked his ardour, her hands strayed south, with devastating effect.

He struggled to form a sentence. "I have many responsibilities at present, some harder to bear than others." He ended on a gasp as her fingers dipped past his belly button, tracing the line of dark hair that led toward his-

"And yet you do, Arthur. You bear them well. Camelot is lucky to have you during these times you know. You do know that of course?" Gwen was playing with him, teasing him into a state of glorious anticipation. He choked out an answer, not sure of that at all, only to be taken by surprise once more.

Gwen swung herself onto him, bracing her hands against the luxurious headboard, her hair tickling his cheeks as she leant forward. Loosening his arms, he settled his hands at her backside, her flesh heating the roughened skin of his palms. He squeezed, tenderly, touched by her fierce determination to convince him of his worth. Her eyes met his in an open moment of communication.

"Arthur, you are not your father. You are the best of him, not the worst."

How had she done that? Cut to the heart of his concerns so cleanly? He kissed her, rising up to meet her mouth in a slow, heated exchange of thanks he had no words for. She kissed back, her lips liquid on his, as their tongues lazily, excruciatingly slowly caressed.

Pleasure prickled his skin all over, causing the hair on his arms and chest to rise as he sighed into the kiss, her mouth increased the pressure in the battle of tongues.

Gwen was taking charge, and he was more than willing to let her. Perhaps she understood his needs better than he, as her breasts teasingly brushed his chest, her nipples pebble hard and achingly tempting. He slid his hands to grip her hips, thrusting upwards as she moved enticingly. She laughed, breaking the kiss with a playful bite to his now swollen lower lip.

"Why is it so hard to give up control, Arthur? Even when it weighs," she whispered kissing his hairline reverently," so heavily upon your head?"

He stilled, feeling knots inside unravel. He had control issues he knew that. Who else could he entrust his men to? Who else would be as committed as he to protect Camelot and its people? No one he trusted would suffice, not even Sir Leon.

No, Arthur knew that he and he alone would go the extra distance for his people. Why would they? It was not their duty after all. It was his, and he took it seriously. He groaned as her lips found his again, and she kissed him from his thoughts, chasing worry away with her passionate insistence. Her soft swollen breasts crushed him as she closed the space between them her hips remained elusively unreachable by his groin. The smooth skin of her abdomen stroked the head of his cock as she moved and he convulsed, instinctively he hauled her backside up his thighs to meet his desire.

She withdrew instantly from the probing kiss and bit his throat in punishment.

He understood the game now.

Gods what an enchanting creature she was, all heat and want and heart breaking insight, laced with discipline.

"Guinevere," he muttered not a warning but a plea, and she kissed him briefly as reward.

Her hands left the headboard to hold his head as she kissed him, drugging him with need. Aware there were rules now, he responded in the only way he knew how, by holding her hips lightly, pulled himself up the bed to a sitting position, finding a way to exert his dominance without taking over, which was both a torment and delight. She nestled into his lap then, her damp, inviting curls rubbing at his shaft, maddeningly slowly. The silky skin of her backside on his coarse thigh hair almost tipped him over. He would snap he was certain of it, his iron clad discipline crumbling beneath her ministrations. Now her hands sat at his shoulders, delicately, when he wanted them to claw at him, expressing a passion as deep as his own. Yet they were soothing instead, stroking lightly, over and over, until the hard edge of his want turned into a languid bubbling river that wound its way through his core.

"Kiss me," she told him, and he was about to complain that he had been, when she lifted herself, and pushed forward, and her nipple brushed his lips. Oh Gods he was lost to this new kind of torture, this slow love making turning his limbs to lead and his wits to ruin.

He opened his mouth to envelop the sweet bud being offered, suckling and licking by turn. Hot lightning lanced through him as she arched her back into his hungry kiss, and he crushed his grip on her hips as they rolled, slipping at his cock as it hardened beyond his endurance.

When a plaintive cry snapped through his intoxicated daze, he gladly found the glistening nipple's twin, letting his thumb stroke the swollen soft nub as he brought the other to the same state. Her tummy skimmed his, her thighs straddling his hips and legs sliding at his thighs as she moved, and Arthur was utterly consumed by the taste of her, the feel of her, the sound of her as her head tipped back and her throat column pulsed with her heart beat by his hair, making his scalp tingle.

If this was giving up control, then he could permit it on occasion he thought foggily, growling as she pulled her breasts away, looking up at her as she decided the next move. He was dimly aware that his desire was stamped on his features, that she held him in her hands, but he was too hard and too hot to be concerned about the shift in power, or what it may mean.

He wanted her to master him; needed her direction, so he could simply be, as pleasure swamped his every cell.

"Tell me what you want, Sire," she whispered, eyes meeting his directly, and he closed his, loving how she so cleverly transformed that hurtful word into a seductive promise; his clever beautiful Gwen.

"You," he confessed, undone by her scent so sweet and her strength so pure. "Always."

With a moan, she leant in and kissed him wildly, her tongue slick and hot as it plundered his mouth, and he fought to hold back, to halt the demands his body was making, as she rolled and stretched and drove him insane. Oh he would pay her back in kind he thought as his muscles strained and heart hammered.

He would teach his Gwen a lesson in endurance too as soon as he was given the chance to...The cry was torn from him like a violent crack of thunder as she slipped onto his erection and held the tip of his shaft within her wet cleft. She silenced him with her mouth, even as she held his shoulders and lowered herself like a glove about him. Lightning pierced him, and sensation shuddered through him, but she was not done with her torture his sweet witch. She held herself aloft as she rode him, never quite allowing their hips to settle, drawing out the ultimate union one delicious slow thrust at a time. His head was spinning and spine wobbling, and he was whimpering her name, but pride had fled the chamber, leaving behind nothing but desire and its expression. Arthur was not a Prince as Gwen finally allowed him to settle fully within her on a gasp of sheer satisfaction, but a man enraptured by the woman he loved.

Eyes snapped open on that thought, he grasped Gwen by the waist and held her to him as he battled the need to come, and she watched him with indolent eyes. Now there was no master, just both of them, moving in harmony as he found a rhythm and she accepted it. She rode him easily, and he felt her climax as it built, saw it even in the gloom of the bed shrouded by curtains, a flush across her skin turning the smooth caramel dewy.

"I love you, Guinevere." A throaty admission of which he had no choice but to share as his patience snapped and his hips bucked harder in the final seconds before he was blinded by his orgasm. It rocked through him like a tidal wave, seeping into every muscle, bone and thought as he wondered if he could feel so spent without dying. It was a moment of bliss sharpened by the knowledge suddenly that he had lain himself bare.

She smiled in response, a smile so wide and sincere that it split him open.

"I love you, Arthur." Then she cried out as she hit the heights too, and his hand skimmed her back, felling her tremors through her skin, even as her words washed through him in the aftermath. The words he had spoken too. The words he realised that did not do justice to his feelings at all, and therefore, were slight a confession, in comparison. Not terrifying at all.

As if reaching her own understanding of what had been spoken, seconds after him, Gwen paused and looked at him, and he was hungry for her all over again, even as she still pulsed about him, and he took the opportunity her hesitation offered, by rolling her over, and pinning her mouth with his.

"Will you wait for me, Gwen?" He demanded in-between kisses, and she nodded her affirmation as her hands linked at his neck, eyes glowing.

"Always."

It was all he wanted to hear.

He woke to a streaky dawn, filtering through the curtains of his bed, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he sat up, reaching across the bed to her with the over. She was gone. His chest crushed beneath the discovery, panic bubbling at the thought it may have been a dream his desperate need had created.

The reality hit as he still held her scent on his skin, and his limbs ached in protest as he went to sit on the side of the bed, his feet swinging to hit the cool floor. It had transpired. As had the confessions they both made. His smile hurt his cheeks, and he touched his face gingerly. He had smiled a lot during the night he surmised with a knowing pride, as had she, his Gwen.

He wondered when she had made her escape, despite his assurances she would be safe till morning, which stung but barely. He had learnt a great deal about her life and its own obligations last night, the battles she fought day to day to keep her position,to rise above the pressures in order to simply survive. If she accepted him for his commitment to his duty, then he must do her the same courtesy he realised, the sting swiftly fading.

A hesitant knock on the door caught his attention, and a quick glance proved he was still naked, so he yanked on a hose and pants before answering, bleary eyed.

Merlin stood there, wearing a grin fit to blind anyone looking.

"Ah, Merlin," Arthur stepped aside, allowing his servant in, his throat raw, no doubt from withholding screams he reasoned as his mind took him back a few hours, then he shook those images away, skin heating in memory. "Bit early to be lurking even for you isn't it?"

"Ah yes,Sire." Merlin's eyes drifted to the bed, and the curtain's still drawn about it, and Arthur bristled. Not that Merlin would ever harm Gwen's reputation but still, even Merlin knowing felt like a betrayal, despite his assistance the night before. "You requested an early morning call if you remember?" Nudge- nudge. Arthur sighed. Merlin veered between impeccable discretion and outright tactlessness at times, an odd combination that annoyed as it did endear.

"Really, Merlin? I don't recall that at all." Arthur wondered to his bed and pulled back the curtains easily, enjoying Merlin's panicked Sire as he span away, so sure of what he would see. As if Arthur would ever risk that! Merlin opened one eye nervously, before sighing as he saw the empty tangled sheets; the very, very tangled sheets. Arthur raise an eyebrow daring him to comment. Merlin wisely held his tongue, though his ears did turn an interesting shade of pink Arthur noted.

"Perhaps I misunderstood Sire," Merlin conceded graciously, and Arthur grinned, before slapping the lanky youth on the back good naturedly.

"Sure you did Merlin, sure you did. Did the other matter you were dealing with last night get resolved satisfactorily?" Arthur still wanted to find that damn maid and throttle her for the damage she had so nearly wreaked, but Merlin nodded confidently.

"Oh yes, all sorted out now. No harm done in the end." Hmm. Arthur wasn't mollified, but had to let it go. He would only cause issues for Gwen if he started berating all the staff that spoke out of turn to her or about her. One day, he knew, she would have the respect she deserved by her peers. One day, she would be the most revered woman in all of Camelot, as she was to him now.

"Excellent. Then you may as well fetch me breakfast, and we'll get this day started. No point wasting day light is there?" Merlin shook his head, and with one last glance at the bed that barely hid his curiosity, he reached the door and opened it, before turning back.

"What would you like for breakfast, Sire?"

"Everything Merlin, I am absolutely famished."

Now Merlin was thoughtful again but before he could speak, Gwen walked past the door, arms full of a basket of flowers, skin glowing and a serene smile on her face.

"Morning Gwen," Merlin smiled at her from Arthur's door, and she paused en-route, turning to him and to Arthur who had all but raced to the door at the sound of her name.

"Good morning, Sire," she curtsied deeply, "morning Merlin." Merlin watched as his friend and master exchanged smiles and coughed awkwardly.

"You're up early, Gwen." He couldn't help it, it was his nature to meddle and needle as required. Besides, after his torrid meeting with Morgana on Gwen's behalf, he felt a certain amount of entitlement too. Gwen turned a careful glance at him, eyebrow raised.

"As are you, Merlin. Gaius requested I pick provisions for his compounds this morning. What's your excuse?" Oh. Merlin found himself under the scrutiny of both Arthur and Gwen, an eerily similar challenge on both faces. He wanted to ask when Gaius had had the opportunity to make such a request, but thought better of it.

"Well, I'm just off to the kitchens. So I suppose we all beat the bell this morning didn't we? Yes, all right then." Merlin made his leave, and glanced back at the end of the corridor, only to witness the skirts of Gwen's dress vanish into Arthur's chambers lightning quick, a flower flying from the basket and landing on the tiled floor. Jogging back, he retrieved the evidence and tucked the errant bloom into his button hole.

He sighed then smiled. Yeah, he may as well take his time on the kitchens. His work load around here had just doubled, he was sure of it.

End


End file.
